Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 437

"Sparrow."

"Hush."

He dropped to his knees in front of me, hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties, and pulled them down my thighs, slow and deliberate. I stepped out of them and stood there naked in his living room, and he looked up at me from the floor like I was something he had won.

"You are soaking," he said, his breath warm on my thighs.

He slid his hand between my legs, parted my folds with his fingers, and circled my clit once, twice, and I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper.

"Don't be shy," he teased, and pushed two fingers inside me, deep, curling, and I gasped and grabbed the back of the couch.

He worked me like that, his fingers fucking me slowly while his thumb pressed my clit, until I was trembling and pushing against his hand, and then he stood, unfastened his trousers, and pushed them down with his boxers, and his cock sprang free, thick and hard, the head glistening, and my mouth went dry. He wrapped his hand around it and stroked once, slow, watching me watch him.

"Turn around," he said. "Bend over the couch."

I turned and bent over the back of the couch, my hands gripping the cushion, my ass in the air, and his hand came down on my bare skin, a sharp slap that made me gasp, and then he was behind me, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, slick with my own wetness.

He pushed inside me in one long, slow stroke.

I cried out. He filled me completely, the stretch burning sweet, and he held still for a moment, buried to the hilt, his fingers threading through my disheveled hair, gripping it, tilting my head back.

"Look at you," he said, his voice ragged. "You take me like you were made for it."

I rode him until my thighs burned, until the pleasure coiled hot and tight in my belly, until I came hard around his cock, clenching and shuddering, and he followed a heartbeat later, gripping my hips and pumping into me, coming inside me, hot and thick, with a groan that sounded like my name.

For a long moment neither of us moved. The only sound was our breathing, loud in the big room, and the slow settling of the couch beneath us.

Then he whispered in my ear, "Now I feel a little content."

I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my own brain.

He kissed my forehead, and stood, pulling up his trousers with the unhurried calm of a man who had not just fucked me into his upholstery. He took the stairs two at a time, and I lay there on the couch, naked and aching, and cursed him with every word I knew.